


Through Crossroads

by JustTiredlySelf_Indulgent (AL_waysTired)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Girl in Thedas, Named Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Not Canon Compliant, Player in Thedas, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Written in 2nd POV, no beta we die like men, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 05:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19078735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AL_waysTired/pseuds/JustTiredlySelf_Indulgent
Summary: You never really imagined that you'd get sucked into any fictitious world.You don't know if it was a blessing or a curse— being forced to play a role in a world you dearly love.The only hope you have now, is that you can change things. Give them the happy ending they deserve.Not so easy when you have these pesky things called feelings.------Will be edited a shit ton so don't be surprised if things change if you come back to this





	1. Prologue

Dreams.

They are your solace from the harsh reality of your world.

Cruel and unrelenting with a society that expects all its members to be _productive._

Dreams were your sanctuary at the end of the day. A sanctuary that allowed you to be as free as your imagination allowed you to be.

Of course, in the walking world, your solace was found in the entrancing stories and characters of video games.

One such game you hold dear to your heart, eases your weary mind with the banter your Inquisitor indulges with your virtual companions separated from you through a screen.

One such game that has your dreams being filled with delightful encounters of a vast world ruled by fantasy and magic.

One such game that has you wishing to be torn away from the very world you live in.

——-

“Tch, fuckin’ egg you ass,” You click your tongue at the screen, brow furrowing as you watch the scene unfold before you.

You knew of the outcome, you had watched this same scene over and over again. Yet, no matter how many times you do, your soul aches and your heart threatens to shatter every single time.

You knew that it was code, something set in stone. This scene before you unchanging no matter how much you wished and willed it to.

You watch helplessly as your rogue elven Inquisitor vows to redeem Solas— to save the man from himself no matter what.

The elven words spoken, ' _Our love will endure._ ’

As you already know, Solas responds regretfully. Kissing your Inquisitor one last time as he magically amputates their left forearm— saving her from the Anchor that would have killed her.

You growl lowly as Solas says his departing words, “I will never forget you.”

You wish, you so desperately wish that he turns around, apologizes for being an absolute idiot and solemnly agrees with your Inquisitor. That he doesn’t need to destroy her world, doesn’t need to kill her and all the good people in it.

But, it doesn’t happen.

Foolish.

“You fuckin’ egg you. You absolute ass. You stupid fuckin’ egg— I will save you from yourself, I _will_ change your mind, I _will_ prove you wrong again!”

Your words are angry yet determined as you shout them at the screen, at a virtual character who will not hear your words of promise.

And all at once your heart and soul aches at the end, enduring the countless of time you've hurt yourself by playing this game to its end repeatedly.

Eventually, you settle down and exit the game and put your PC to sleep. You stretch out your limbs in your seat much like a feline with a yawn that sounded like a hiss.

Your mind is brimming with insults for the elven man who you dubbed _‘Egg’_ much like the rest of the fans of the game. You’re hurt by his betrayal even before you’ve witnessed it, spoiling yourself with knowledge before jumping into it when you first thought to play it.

Recently, you were informed of the new teaser for the next Dragon Age game— The Dread Wolf Rises.

And oh man, you mentally and verbally promised and wished to able to bitch slap some sense into Solas as your Inquisitor or yourself if the universe granted you the privilege.

Ah well, now is not the time to dwell on things that have yet to come. You’ve played well past midnight already, and as your father had told you many years ago— the natural world is dead asleep at 12, and so you should be too.

You go about your nightly routine before bed and then just smack dab fell asleep as soon as your body settles comfortably into the mattress.

——-

Time is peculiar thing, it waits for no one yet there are people who can bend it to their will— cut, fold and patch its very fabric and straighten it out as if it nothing had ever happened

In truth, though seamless it may seem, its very fabric is tattered and ruined in many places but still somehow separated and connected in its entirety.

Truly, time it a peculiar thing but it does work in certain people's favor.

Mythal watches, observant and calculating, as the brunette succumbs to slumber.

The Evanuris had been keeping a close eye on this particular candidate. The child being the most promising of all those that had played this so-called... 'game’ (the word tasting rather unpleasant on her lips).

A condensed simulation of the perhaps future events of Mythal's own world. Makers or Creators who had the ability to look into different worlds.

That is what this game was.

As unnerving as the reality of the human girl's was, it served a good purpose.

Time had been a peculiar thing, it had been perhaps months in the mortal's world, but in the world of Thedas… it had been decades, if not centuries.

Truly everything has been finally moving as the Creators of the game had predicted by the time Mythal found the most suitable candidate.

Solas had awakened from his long slumber, her beloved guardian wolf foolishly given his Foci to be activated by that Blighted Tevinter monstrosity.

If there had been more time, perhaps Mythal would have searched and chosen someone who did not have any burden of friends or family.

But, as it stands, this mortal girl was the only one the Evanuris felt she could change what was carved into destiny.

The girl saved everyone she could, sided with the Mages (albeit curiosity had gotten her to side with the Templars once in another playthrough), spared those she could, allowed Morrigan to drink from Well of Sorrows, showed empathy to all those who needed it and vowed to save Solas (romanced or not).

Not only that, it was very interesting that the girl's father is a god— almost more powerful than Mythal herself it would seem.

The glow of power in his soul subtle but bright. If She had not been more keen, the father would have been nothing more than a man with a close connection to the Fade. But the aura he had held, it consumed everything around him, warding away malicious spirits and wrapping protectively around his loved ones such as Her chosen one.

But, the girl— Althea was her name— she too had a close connection to the Fade. The power in her soul shone brightly but unlike the girl's father, the power and aura she exuded was firm but warm, strong but gentle, determined but not absolute.

Most importantly, however, the power in her soul _healed_.

And that power flared blindingly whenever the girl had to help, had to save all those who could not save themselves. It shone, trying to reach out to all the characters the girl had met.

The girl wanted to heal the world and its people from the bottom of her heart.

That is exactly what Mythal needed in an Inquisitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, Kudos, and Criticism are all welcome!


	2. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Eluvian in the middle of your living room?
> 
> What could possibly go wrong?

The next morning was as routine as it always was, getting up as you grumbled at your alarm clock and slammed it off before padding off into your bathroom to get ready for the day.

You had a hangout to go to with some good friends you've been meaning to catch up with.

You put on a smart casual ensemble of clothes, a light blue short sleeved button-up, a pair of comfortable boyfriend cut jeans and your favorite pair of slip-on sneakers.

When you finally exit your bedroom and into your living quarters… you stop in your tracks.

 

_What in the world?_

 

Right in the middle of the living room was a gigantic mirror, its height tall enough that it just barely touches the ceiling.

The mirror looks as if it has always been in the middle of the room. The gold rimming of the mirror glimmers as rays of sunlight hits the metal. The glass does not reflect its surrounding, it moves like waves of the ocean.

“An… Eluvian…?” You mutter, brows furrowing in absolute confusion and disbelief.

 

What the fuck.

 

“Ok… There is a fucking Eluvian in the middle of my living room… or maybe I'm fucking dreaming,” You say to yourself, voice harsh sounding from swearing and being absolutely bamboozled.

 

You slap your cheeks.

Nope, you felt the slight stinging, you're not dreaming.

You narrow your eyes down at the Eluvian, growling.

 

Ok, what the fuck.

 

Shaking your head, you sigh exasperatedly as you walk towards it— cautious and your guard up in every step.

You stop just before the Eluvian, scowling at the bright holo reflecting light onto your tan colored skin.

You slowly reach out a hand, pointer finger touching at the surface of its glass.

 

It felt like liquid.

 

Fuck, it's real.

 

You pull back your hand quickly as if you've been burnt.

But something snags your wrist (fuck, it felt like a hand) and roughly pulls you towards the glass.

You manage to catch yourself, trying to tug your hand free from the iron grip of absolutely nothing on your wrist.

 

 _Shit_ , a spirit is trying to pull you in.

 

You grunt in effort, trying your best to get away from the Eluvian.

But to no avail, you get harshly and roughly tugged so much so that you stumble forward.

Your sight is blinded by white as you're engulfed into the mirror.

 

\-----

 

Your head hurts.

 

You note as your eyes are screwed shut, the blinding white light making you curl into yourself.

The pounding in your head doesn’t help, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall in hopes the pain would stop.

Eventually, the painful ache subsides and becomes a subtle reminder that you aren’t dead yet.

You slowly open your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the blur in your vision.

You recognize this place, from the game.

 

The Crossroads.

 

Faintly, you recall Morrigan’s words, of how the Eluvians could lead to different worlds.

Ah, great you’re in a fanfiction situation. Wonderful and not at the same time.

It's weird though, the Crossroads don't look as haunted and foggy as Morrigan had shown your Inquisitor or as bizarre as the one in the Trespasser DLC.

It looks brighter— more mystical, especially with the numerous lights floating about and illuminating the area. It feels enchanting, one you would expect from a magical forest in _Fable_ or in _Mushishi_.

You shake your head, now’s not the time to be debating the feel of your surroundings.

The strength of the pull of the spirit’s or whatever grabbed you sent you tumbling through the Eluvian and unto the ground of the Crossroads.

Your lips form a frown as you grimace, pushing yourself off from the ground to stand up.

Somehow, it doesn’t help that you notice now that there is a blue aura of light outlining your own body. Even more that you can feel the place _pushing_ against you— a heavy weight on your heart and your very being.

 

You definitely do not belong here.

 

You turn around, because obviously, you need to get back to your own world where you actually belong.

Though, as soon as you do, the sudden sight of another human shaped being causes you to curse out loudly and stumble backwards in surprise in a poor attempt to get away from the potential attacker.

It didn’t end well, judging from your disheveled— heart beat thumping faster than it’s supposed to— state on the ground.

You hear a chuckle from above you, “Such language, but it is to be expected. Although I didn’t expect you to be so startled.”

You tilt your head to get a better look at the owner of the somewhat familiar voice.

 

A woman stands before you, outlined in an enchanting gold aura.

 

You recognized her, though her outfit was different, brighter with a lighter color palette, white, gold and blue compromising the ensemble.

Though, the two pairs of horns jutting from the horns from her head were rather unmistakable.

 

You suck in a quiet breath, “ _Mythal?_ ”

 

The woman smiles, soft and gentle just like how a mother would smile at her beloved children. The intricate white almost transparent pattern of her vallaslin elegantly decorating the skin of her face and those eyes, vibrant and gold just like Morrigan and Flemeth’s eyes.

“I see that you adjust quickly, I’d have expected that you would insist this would be merely a dream, a figment of your imagination,” Her eyes are sharp and calculating, piercing through you as her voice seems echo ethereally throughout the Crossroads.

You furrow a brow, swallowing, a nervous smile on your lips, “Well, I am pretty sure that I was definitely awake when I was dragged into the Eluvian,” you move yourself to stand.

Inwardly, you bite back the urge to snarkily swear at whatever higher power that they've put you in a fanfic.

Mythal's eyes seem to light up at that, “Ah, how could I forget, you certainly have exhibited the ability to manipulate the Fade in your dreams.”

You can almost feel her giddiness swirling in the air, though your attention is more caught onto her statement.

“Manipulate the Fade? I uh don't think that's what I do… my dreams just turn into lucid ones,” your expression turns to one of confusion.

Mythal laughs lightly, “Yes, I had almost forgotten that term, _'Lucid Dreaming.’_ Wherein one is aware that they are dreaming and can control what happens in them. My dear child, that is what it means to control the Fade.”

The revelation makes you frown in confusion.

 

So… being able to lucid dream is to be able to control the Fade, huh

 

Oh shit, you do not want to be a mage, as much as magic is cool.

 

You nod, slowly, “Alright… so I’m assuming that I'm in the Crossroads because there's something going on in Thedas?”

Mythal's expression turns serious and sorrowful, “I am afraid that is the case, my child. I would have not brought you here if all was well in Thedas.”

You let out a sigh, a sad smile on your lips, “Right, of course.”

The Evanuris nods solemnly, “The world of Thedas’ fate has been already decided, especially with what my dear Dread Wolf has planned…”

Your lips press into a thin line as you hear _'Dread Wolf’_ leave Mythal.

 

It takes almost all your strength not to growl loudly and curse at Fen'Harel or Solas in this case.

 

Mythal's gaze bores into you and you dismiss the thoughts of the events that had happened during the Trespasser DLC.

“You, my child, can change what has been carved into destiny. You will be the one to change the fate of Thedas and everything in it,” She states, absolute in her words.

 

Oof, protagonist time, modern girl in Thedas, _great_.

 

 _No_ , you won't be dragged into this.

 

You give a nervous grin, brows furrowing, “W-wait, why me, there are tons of people out there who are like me— heck, better than me even!”

You can't just abandon your life on Earth for Thedas. You wished, yes but you don't want it to be _real._

“I can't possibly be the only one who fits the criteria! There's gotta be someone else!” You cry out, teeth gritting.

 

You can't leave your father to a life alone, and you can't leave your friends behind with cruel reality.

 

Mythal gives you an expression full of sympathy and pity.

“There is no time to search, you are the only one I've found who can save Thedas. The only one who twist Fate how you want it to,” The tone in her voice is resigned— you don't like it.

“So, this is really it for me, huh?” You hear another voice behind you and it… sounds very eerily familiar.

You turn around so fast that if this were any other situation, your vision might’ve blurred.

For a moment, you want to rub your eyes and blink multiple times but you’re sure of what you’re seeing.

You see yourself… but unmistakably, you— she? Has the light scars on her eyebrows, the bright green ink of the tattoo around her left eye and the armor reminiscent of the starter one but changed.

“Shit, no, I am not taking your place, I’m not going to sacrifice anyone, even if it’s myself!” You step back, you know the paradoxes that happens when alternate selves happen meet or touch each other.

Your copy chuckles sadly, “There was a time, I would say the exact same thing,” she clicks her tongue, “But don’t worry, I do not regret handing my life off to you— we are one and the same after all.”

You shake your head, denial of what’s to come, anger plain on your face as you look back to the Evanuris behind you.

“Mythal, you can’t do this! You can send me into Thedas just as I am— I am not taking anyone’s life!” You growl.

Mythal says nothing as your alternate smiles sadly, “Sad to say, that’s not possible— I am but a shard of you, the original soul of _‘Althea.’_ If you go into Thedas, I will still become apart of you no matter what.”

You scowl, “Then why don’t you do it then!? You’re _me_ in Thedas, you’ll become the Inquisitor either way so my involvement isn’t even required!” Your voice getting louder as you reason.

Mythal sighs but speaks up, “If it were only that simple. You, an original soul— someone from the world of Creators— is the only one who can change Fate. Any soul belonging to Thedas would follow the world’s design.”

 

You grit your teeth, you hate this, you really do.

 

In the midst of your cursing of all the higher powers there could possibly be, you hear your alternate self cry out in pain, hissing.

You quickly turn back to your copy, only to see her crumpled down on her knees.

You don't think, you just move— running to your alternate's aid.

“Shit, what's wrong?” You ask, brow furrowed with a tense but worried expression on your face.

Your copy reaches out for you, her free hand grabbing your shoulder as the other pressed heavily against where her heart was. She leans towards you, pressing her forehead against yours.

Expression changing to that of confusion, you look into your copy's eyes.

They're brighter than yours, deep brown with flecks of yellow and orange.

The alternate chuckles with a sad smile, “I'm really sorry for this.”

You're confused, but before you can even voice it out, your copy's eyes glow brightly with blue-white light.

Her body quickly gets engulfed in that same bright bluish white light.

 

You feel a pain in your chest.

 

You want to _scream_.


	3. Ser Auren Numen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet a trusted friend.
> 
> A new face yet... not at all to you.

You jolt awake, heavily panting with sweat rolling down the side of your face as you hear a startled, “Woah!” from beside you.

You try to regain your breath and as you did so, you feel a hand rubbing your back soothingly.

The sounds of a horse’s hooves clicking against a dirt road makes itself known to you. You also hear the sounds of wooden wheels creakily rolling against the earth along with faint… countryside music?

 

“Bad dream, huh?” A deep male voice asks.

 

You turn your head to the side to see the owner of the voice.

It belongs to a young male, probably around mid 20’s. His short dark brown locks were messily slicked back with a few strands falling onto his forehead. His face was kind and clean shaven though with a few scars— one on the edge of  his right eyebrow and one over the bridge of his nose— he also had firm but gentle amber colored eyes. He was wearing simple but elegantly made leather garments, with his right arm armed with a metal pauldron, counter, vambrace and gauntlet.

He's looking at you with furrowed brows and concerned eyes.

 

“... Want to talk about it?”

 

You give a small smile, as the back of your mind whispers to you about the man before you.

“Uh no need… it was startling… I suppose? I don't exactly remember what it was about anymore, either way,” you say, “but I appreciate the concern nonetheless, Auren.”

The concern on his face melted away and replaced with a fond smile.

“Of course I have to be concerned for you, Althea. It is my duty as your dear friend and bodyguard,” he grins cheekily, “The heir of House Seraphim mustn't fall into any kind of harm.”

You laugh a bit, bumping your shoulder harshly into his, “Auren! I can take care of myself just fine with or without you,” you scoff.

Auren rolls his eyes, “Of course I know that you can handle yourself fine. However, you do need someone to suffer with you at this Conclave. Maker only knows how much you hate politics, especially with the Mages and Templars involved.”

 

Conclave. Mages. Templars.

The Crossroads, all your memories come crashing back to you.

You're in Thedas, you're in… Dragon Age: Inquisition.

 

_Fuck_.

 

You give a disgusted noise, “Eugh, politics. I don't know why dad makes _me_ go to all these meetings,” you slouch down into your seat, “I'm pretty sure that the Conclave's just going to be a Mage vs Templars shouting match.”

Auren chuckles, “In the least, probably. I won't be surprised if they'd start fighting in the middle of the peace talks. Maker bless the Divine, glad I don't have her job.”

You laugh, “I'd like to see that, you in the Divine's garments, hah! Ridiculous.”

The dark brunette shakes his head, “Truly, I wonder how Ser Roland expects a brute of a lady like you to carry House Seraphim?”

You jab your elbow into his side, gaining an, “Ouch!” from him.

“As much as I am a brute, I’m a much better candidate than my older brothers,” You state, glaring lightly at Auren.

In response, Auren groans, “Eugh, don't remind me of the existence of your brothers. Matthew's a hopeless man, quick to anger and has no ambition. Aldrich is decent, yes, but he's more merchant material than anything.”

You chuckle, “Exactly, that’s why _I’m_ the heir to House Seraphim.”

Auren raises both his hands in defeat, “Alright, you win. I see your point.”

He pauses before speaking again, “Though, Lady Leiah is also a good candidate— not as well-versed in combat like you but she certainly handles politics better than you.”

You shrug, “Of course, it's Leiah. Honestly, I might just try to convince dad to make her heir. At least then, I'd be able to travel around like I planned.”

Auren sighs with mild disdain at your words, “Of course, how typical of you to avoid responsibility.”

Just then, the vehicle you were in halts to a stop, causing your bodyguard to jerk forwards harshly and hit the back of his head on the wooden wall of the carriage when he jerked backwards.

“Fuck!” He swears out loudly, cradling his own head.

You laugh, “That’s probably karma,” You grin wider when Auren shoots you an unsteady glare.

“We’re here!” A rough voice calls out, you assume it’s the driver’s.

You find that you're right as a gruff man in leather armor— with a breastplate that had an intricate insignia consisting of three pairs of angel wings— opened the carriage door.

“We’ve arrived at Haven, Lady Althea,” He informs.

 

Haven. Where it all began, your heart aches at the knowledge you possess.

 

You click your tongue, gesturing your head outside, “C’mon Auren, we can’t waste anymore time— we still gotta walk all the way to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Auren groans a bit, muttering under his breath about having no sympathy for the recently injured but complies to your wishes nonetheless.

 

\-----

 

You have memories of Thedas’ version of you— the earliest being tucked in by a man who had the exact same image and personality as your own father in the _'real world.’_

It's jarring, to say the least. You're Althea yet not at the same time— you're the original, a little more whole because you and Thedas!Althea mad merged, becoming one soul.

 

Complicated and confusing but… you sorta understood.

 

Your memories of the real world are more prominent although your mind has flashes of the memories of Thedas.

Seeing Haven in person, not through a screen was a bit…  breathtaking— you had to conceal your awe. But internally, the small town felt bigger than it actually was and truth be told, it _was_ bigger than the game portrayed it being.

Feeling the cold air bite your face and through your garbs was exhilarating. It was a new yet at the same time, an old sensation. Especially breathing in that cold fresh air, that was better than all the fresh air you could ever breathe back in the real world.

You and Auren made your way through the quaint little town— Auren having to ask for some directions while you tried to feign not knowing anything.

 

Which proved to be mildly hard.

 

Either way, you stopped by the tavern to buy water to refill your and Auren's canteens.

Oof, you almost forgot the currency naming in Thedas while at it. Very much glad for your Thedas memories.

Eventually, you meet back up with Auren— who gratefully thanks you when you hand him back his canteen— and begin your trek all the way to the Temple.

A cold winter breeze passes you by, making strands of your silky dark brown locks whipping along with it. You run a hand through it, your hair settling back into its usual style.

 

You're positive that you will hate the trek.


	4. Temple of Sacred Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to stop a crazy darkspawn.

Surprisingly enough, the body of Thedas!Althea is much fitter than your actual body in the real world.

 

So, the trek up the mountain wasn't too bad.

 

Auren was great company, keeping your mind off the complaints that were right on the tip of your tongue.

Predictably, you see a lot of Mages and Templars— both glaring daggers at each other but otherwise staying rather civil with each other.

Probably to respect Divine Justinia's wishes.

You never actually got to see the inside of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and you're excited to finally do so.

Auren leans a bit towards you, voice hushed and low, “Seems like it's a glaring match for now, we'll probably see that shouting match once the Conclave starts.”

You crack a smile, suppressing a chuckle. Auren smiles too at seeing your lips quirk upwards

 

But then, you remember— the explosion.

Auren's here, you can't let him be caught in the blast.

… Maybe you can prevent people getting killed?

 

You doubt that you could save everyone in the Conclave, especially the Divine.

 

You can try, but you still have to stay and stop Corypheus.

 

“Hey, Auren?” You catch his attention, both of you stopping as he looks down to your shorter form.

“Yes, Lady Seraphim?” He courtesies you— he has to in public, you knew.

“Think you can go walk back to Haven?” You ask.

Auren raises a curious eyebrow, a bit perplexed at the question.

“What for, my lady?”

You smile, “Oh, I just want you to buy the good alcohol for after the Conclave. Maker knows that I'll need it,” you cast a subtle glance at both the Mages and Templars.

Please take the excuse. You know from your memories on Thedas that you only drink when dealing with ridiculous headache inducing political shit that makes you want to bang your head on the wall.

Auren cracks a grin and chuckles at that, “Ah, I see. Very well then, I can make the trek,” he pauses, suddenly a bit unsure.

“Are… you sure you'll be fine without me? It'll be awhile before I'll come back,” his brows furrowing in concern.

You roll your eyes, “Have _some_ faith in me, Auren. I'll be alright, I can handle being without your presence for a couple of hours.”

 

Please go.

 

The dark brunette sighs with a light laugh, “Okay, I'll stop being a mother hen. I'll see you later.”

You nod and Auren takes his leave. Soon enough, he's out of your sight and trekking back down the path the two of you took.

Just then, someone announces that the Conclave will start in 30 minutes.

A few Mages and Templars in the courtyard proceed to enter the Temple while others opted to stay and mingle with their fellow peers.

Deep breaths, you got this.

 

Time to foil Corypheus’ plans.

 

\-----

 

The inside of the Temple of Sacred Ashes was incredible, it felt holy and enchanting— fitting as they _are_ holy grounds.

A small shock to you, a few Mages and Templars actually approach and converse with you.

They recognize you it seems, as the heir to House Seraphim and daughter of Ser Roland Seraphim, The Respected.

Apparently, your father here in Thedas is the Teyrn of Ostwick but heavily dislikes the title and position. His way of ruling the city, his personal tastes and quirks were something considered highly unusual and weird.

Why? Because out of all known cities in the entirety of Thedas… Ostwick is the one of the only city in the Free Marches wherein racism towards elves, dwarves and mages isn't rampant like the rest of Thedas— practically a paradise for all.

Your father being a just, merciful and open-minded ruler. Of course, not without being cold, cunning, intimidating and manipulative when the times call for it.

Ostwick, famous for its double walls is also well known for having weird laws and relationship with the Chantry. The Chantry is welcome alongside with the Templars but they must abide by the laws of the city-state. One of those laws being the punishable-by-death persecution of Elves, Dwarves, and Mages without reason or evidence.

A law that has been reformed over and over again to utmost efficiency— preventing it to be exploited.

 

Huh, Ostwick is what most real world cities operate by.

 

Thank the higher powers for your father.

 

\-----

 

Either way, the Mages and Templars who approached you made small talk or asked questions but you ultimately made each conversation brief as possible and eventually distanced yourself from the main room to explore.

 

You needed to stop Corypheus.

 

You're not sure how much time you have left before he activates the Orb of Fen'Harel.

For a few minutes, you wander the halls almost aimlessly— some Chantry sisters you encountered asking you if you were lost and you giving an excuse of exploring.

Thankfully, they left you be.

Eventually, you come across an eerily empty part of the Temple. Your stomach dropping and a sense of dread fills you at an almost instinctual reaction.

 

You're probably in the right direction.

 

Faintly, you can actually _feel_ magic cackling. Subtle, almost unnoticeable— but not to you it seems.

Dangerous and continuously ripping at something, you can almost hear the sound of fabric being torn apart in your ears.

Whispers make it known to you, and they grow louder by the second as you take each step towards the beginning of everything as you know it.

You hear a voice, deep, old and authoritative, “Now is the hour of our victory.”

Your eyes narrow at it and you will yourself to move faster towards the giant doors in the direction of the voice.

 

 _Corypheus_.

 

“Why are you doing this? You, of all people?” Divine Justinia's voice.

You can hear the disbelief in her voice, it's nearly crippling.

 

C'mon, _faster!_

 

You get to the end of the hall, seeing a dead Chantry Mother leaning against the wall.

Throat slit. You go pale, almost opting to stop, blanch and vomit. You've never seen death up close in the real world— your Thedas self has and has gotten used to it.

You quickly search her body and conveniently find a key.

 

You hate Fate.

 

“Keep the sacrifice still,” you hear Corypheus’ voice loud and clear, just on the other side of those giant oak double doors.

You grit your teeth in anger, “Someone! Help me!” you hear the desperation in the Divine's call for aid.

You quickly unlock the doors and roughly shove them open.

 

“ ** _You're not sacrificing anyone, asshole!_ **” You yell, snarling with anger and venom in your voice.

 

Your abrupt interruption caused a brief but an all too precious window of weakness to Corypheus’ plans as all attention was on you.

Taking the opportunity, Divine Justinia smacks the green Orb of Fen'Harel out of the Magister Darkspawn's hand.

 

The Elven artifact lands on the Temple's concrete tiled floor and rolls into your direction.

 

Instinctively you move to catch it, sacrificing your left hand up to be the vessel of the Anchor as you lifted it up with the one limb.

All of a sudden power from the Orb surges into your left hand and proceeds to consume you.

 

 _Pain_ . So much agonizing _pain_.

 

You didn't know it'd hurt this much.

 

Your other hand clenches your left arm, nails digging into the leather and into your skin as a weak attempt to quell the surge of pain and power consuming you from the Orb.

You can't help it, you let out a strangled howl due to the unfathomable pain.

Corypheus looks mortified, then his expression turns into pure anger as he surges forward towards you, hand outstretched to reach the Orb in your hand.

But as he's merely inches away from reaching you, the power and magic from the Elven artifact goes awry, green sparking out dangerously.

 

Then, a flash of _white_.


	5. The Explosion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your faithful bodyguard's point of view

Auren finally arrived back at Haven, a bit tired but still had more than enough energy to make the trip back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

He didn't spare a single minute and headed straight towards the small town's only tavern.

Honey Mead. Your favorite alcohol beverage and one of the famous products of Ostwick. Though, it isn't one of the strongest alcohol in the world, it is a well loved one.

Auren knew that this was the only alcohol you would ever drink. The drink being sweet enough to hide the taste of alcohol but not enough to dilute of the sting and burn of it.

 

Perfect for you.

 

Fortunately enough, he was able to buy the last bottle of Honey Mead the tavern had on hand.

 

Thank the Maker.

 

To be cautious, Auren tasted a bit of the beverage to be sure of the flavor and authenticity of the product.

The dark brunette smiled— it was definitely genuine Ostwick Honey Mead.

You'd be sorely happy when he'd get back.

Auren closed off the bottle and proceeded to head to the main gate of Haven.

 

Time to begin his journey back.

 

As he was about to get halfway through the bridge to the path towards the Temple, he looked at the tinted glass bottle in his hand one more time.

He grinned at the seemingly glowing golden liquid inside, _'You'll be in for a treat, Althea,’_ he thought.

He felt the excitement bubbling in his chest at the thought of seeing your face morph into that of pleasant surprise.

Just then— he could feel it. The crackle in the air, the intense pressure of magic pushing down on his entire being.

 

As quickly as he felt it, an incredibly loud ear-ringing **_boom_ ** pierced the air.

 

Followed by an equally incredibly strong gust of wind that forced Auren to shield his head with his arms and shut his eyes whilst keeping a tight grip on the bottle of Honey Mead.

He probably would have been forced off his feet if he weren't so ridiculously stubborn and steadfast in staying put.

Eventually, the wind stopped blowing and his hair flopped back down onto his head.

Slowly, Auren lowered his arms and opened his eyes.

He looked to where the Temple of Sacred Ashes was from his place.

The sound of breaking glass cannot even begin to describe the slow disbelief and horror that consumed Auren’s expression.

The skies became dark, and along with it, the dark brunette's heart shattered into pieces.

From once where the Temple of the Sacred Ashes of Andraste stood, was now where the beginning of chaos did.

A bright eerie swirling stream of light shooting up into the sky, where a tear in the sky holding the same shade of disgusting cruel green now exists.

 

“... _No_ …”

 

\-----

 

Maker no.

 

This isn't happening, no.

 

This isn't real.

 

This is a dream! A cruel _cruel_ dream!

 

A nightmare!

 

His own personal _hell_.

 

It’s been 2 days since the explosion at the Conclave, and two days not knowing if Althea Seraphim— his childhood friend, his best friend, his adoptive sister, the one he was _supposed_ to protect— is dead.

That day of the explosion, the Divine’s Left and Right Hand— Leliana and Cassandra Pentaghast respectively— had arrived around the same time Auren finished buying the Honey Mead for you.

In those 2 days, Cassandra and a man or rather Commander named Cullen Stanton Rutherford had conducted searches in the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

 

Auren instantaneously volunteered to help with the search.

 

Commander Cullen was more than willing to accept his help, especially when the Champion specialized warrior bore the insignia of the Teyrn of Ostwick on his armor.

And so, for those 2 days, Auren searched endlessly with the scouts and other willing volunteers.

Although, it was chaos all around— between scouting the now highly dangerous roads and saving those that they could.

While he helped searched, most of his time was  dedicated to fighting off Demons, Wraiths and Shades with his trusty blessed sword and shield bearing the well-known insignia of House Seraphim.

The green hole in the sky— now dubbed ‘ _The Breach,_ ’ is apparently a rip in the sky into the Fade. Rocks spat out from the large rift turned into Demons, Shade or Wraiths… as well as smaller rifts appearing spewing out corrupted spirits from the Fade

He internally thanks those 3 years he trained with the Templars while he was growing up in Ostwick.

During those 2 days, he got to be acquainted with an apostate mage Elf named Solas, a Dwarf kind of being held prisoner and famous author of ‘ _Hard in Hightown_ ,’ Varric Tethras, and the Right Hand of the late Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast.

Auren caught the attention of Cassandra because of his willingness to go out there in the Demon swarmed roads leading to the Temple.

They’ve exchanged some words. Cassandra recognizing the 6 winged crest of House Seraphim and asking the warrior about his presence in Haven.

“Ser Roland sent his daughter to partake in the Conclave— as a representative of Ostwick regarding the Mage and Templar situation,” He replied, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tightened his hold on his sword and shield.

The Seeker of Truth raised an eyebrow at how the warrior referred to the Teyrn of Ostwick. Then again, Cassandra did hear rumors that the ruler of city-state vehemently hated the title and position. Somehow, she could relate to the most well-respected on Thedas.

 

She let it be, and allowed Auren to continue.

 

“I… I’m the knight who sworn to protect Althea Charles Seraphim. I was… to accompany her and make sure no harm befell her,” He finishes, breath shaky.

Seeker Cassandra could see that it was a hard topic for the dark brunette. Especially when he was done speaking… he could see a bit of herself in the man. She had lost Divine Justinia and Auren had lost the one he sworn to protect just like she had.

They both blamed themselves for not being there— to have maybe prevented their deaths.

“But how come you were in Haven whilst Lady Seraphim stayed at the Temple?” Cassandra inquired.

Auren gave a dry chuckle, “She wanted me to buy a drink for after the Conclave. Told me, ‘ _Maker knows that I’ll need it,’”_ a small smile appears on his lips, “Lady Althea tends to hate politics, especially when they're needless. The war between Mages and Templars? In her opinion, it was stupid and needless bloodshed— she always tells me that everything would have worked out if they just _talk_ like what Ostwick did.”

The warrior’s expression falls into sadness after, “So, as her obedient knight, I left her to do as she asked. I should’ve not been so complacent— I should’ve refused, that I should be at her side at all times. Now, she’s probably a pile of ashes in that scorched Temple.”

Cassandra stayed silent as she watched the man grit his teeth in self-loathing.

Yes, she could say that they were the same. Hating themselves for not protecting the one they swore to protect as they have both lost them to the damnable explosion and The Breach.

Cassandra hopes just as much as he does, that somehow, you and the Divine made it out alive.

 

Auren had also conversed with Varric Tethras, the famous Dwarven author curiously asking the bodyguard of why he kept searching even though they kept coming back with nothing but reports of how everything was decimated.

The brunette knight was silent for a moment before taking a swig of his canteen, "She's _alive_ . I _know_ that she is. To hell what the reports say, I'm not going to stop searching until I find her."

Varric didn’t have the heart to tell him that the only thing he'd be able to find would be a burnt indistinguishable carcass due to the blast of the explosion.

But somehow, the Dwarf still hoped that the knight's friend somehow managed to miraculously make it out alive— she sounded like a good person.

 

Meanwhile, Solas and Auren had only exchanged a handful of words. The elf being the one to explain what the Breach was and him asking the knight when he noticed he didn’t much expressed surprise at the presence of the Elven apostate mage.

"Race doesn't matter much to me— it's not much of a big deal. So what if you're an elf and an apostate? You're doing what you can to help in these grim times. That in itself says a lot about who you are more that what you are."

The answer surprised Solas, nonetheless. He hadn't expected such a mindset from a knight— much so from a house of nobility, as indicated from the insignia on the brunette's armor.

Not only that, Auren was one of the few people outside the few elves that were taking shelter in Haven that didn't act cautious and guarded around him or look at him with disdain.

 

Since he had awoken from his long slumber, it was quite a refreshing point of view to hear in this world of tranquil.

 

\-----

 

On the second day, the unbelievable happened— in the late afternoon, the group of scouts tasked to search the Temple of Sacred Ashes came back with something, or rather, _someone_.

Auren had not been with the party of scouts, but his relief and surprise had no words to describe it.

There you laid in a cot being carried by two men— your armor had nicks and scratches, as well as parts of leather and cloth having small rips with cuts bleeding red blood from underneath them.

There was a cut on your face too, on your right cheek. It wasn’t that deep and superficial, he could tell, but even so, it brought him hate to himself to see you in such a state.

Though, he couldn’t hide the relief that surged through him to see your chest rise and fall with each weak breath you took.

 

_You were alive._


	6. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were unconscious, then you were awake.

The Black City. 

 

You never thought you’d see it in actuality. 

 

But here you were, in the ruins of what was once called the Golden City. True to its namesake, the buildings and stone were tainted by black— the texture of the taint almost akin to snakeskin. 

You remember hearing a similar description referring to a certain disease that spread, claimed and corrupted everything it touched. 

 

The Blight. 

 

You hated this protagonist business already. 

 

You stood in the middle of what you assumed to be the Black City’s Main square— green mist or fog plaguing the area and everything here along with the blackness of corruption. 

Pain shot through you, centering on your left palm, causing you to hiss and clutch the offending limb. 

 

The Anchor, you almost forgot about that. 

 

You look to the mark and see it pulse, flickering and flaring with green magic. 

You sneer at it, closing your left hand into a tight fist. 

 

“You will  _ not _ kill me, I  _ won’t _ let that happen,” You roughly whisper. 

 

The mark flares once more and you expect to get hit by another wave of pain but nothing comes. 

Shockingly, the Anchor’s color changes— flaring and crackling with magic as it… turned into a blue cyan hue. 

The mark doesn’t feel like needles on your hand and instead, it just tingles warmly. 

The oppressive atmosphere of the Black City shifts and the scenery changes along with it. 

 

The Crossroads.

 

There’s no one but you and nobody appears to show themselves to you. 

 

You’re alone. 

 

There’s a melodic silence to the place, and you decide that this is a place of peace you could escape to.

 

A gift to you to ease your current predicament probably. 

 

While your mind was perfectly fine (you chalked this up to being the ‘original’ Althea), your body is still slowly recuperating and adjusting to the power of the Orb of Fen’Harel. In that midst, you drift in and out of actual consciousness— you see blurry but familiar faces of two people in the short few minutes you’re somewhat awake. Though, most times you can only really hear their voices.

Auren’s the first you see, though you’re too tired to keep your eyes open, you can hear his voice even through the mild ringing in your ears.

He whispers apologies to you and thanks the Maker that you’re alive endlessly. 

Sometimes, he updates you on what’s happening, you try to listen, but honestly, his voice lulls you back to sleep oftentimes. 

Solas is the second person you see, at first you thought you were delirious but as you remember that you’re Thedas, you know that you weren’t. 

You can feel the crackling and hum of magic in the air, though most of it is concentrated on your left hand. 

It feels warm yet distant, like a small sad smile of a person who wishes to get closer to you but doesn’t. 

The elven mage utters a few words sometimes, “I’m sorry,” in common tongue or, “Ir abelas,” in Elvish.

 

You want to punch him and his bald head. 

 

Though, your passive-aggressive thoughts eventually lull and you’re drifted off to sleep from the soothing yet distant feel of his magic. 

Sometimes, you overhear Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast and Leliana talk about you. About exactly what, you’re unsure but you know it’s generally about you as there are times when you can hear them converse with Auren and his angry voice.

Most of the time however, out of consciousness, you walk the Black City in your dreams— plagued by the overly oppressive atmosphere and the eerie hum of a song that seems to seep out of the tainted concrete. 

Usually, there is muted pain when you’re in the Black City. It would’ve probably left you banging your left arm into the floor in hopes it would stop if it weren’t for the distant soothing of what you assume to be Solas’ work. 

The Anchor always glows a sickly bright green in the corrupted city of legend. 

Other times, you’re in the Crossroads— just how you remember it when you first physically entered it from the real world. 

There, you’re in relative peace and the mark on your hand emits a warm comforting tingle unlike the spiking pain when you’re in the Black City. 

The Crossroads become a sanctuary to you, as you look into the giant Eluvian you somehow knew was the one you came through to get here in the first place. There, you watch your memories of the real world and if you want, the memories you have in Thedas.

The Anchor always glows a soothing subtle but bright blue in the empty solace of the Crossroads. 

 

\-----

 

When you finally awake with full consciousness, you don’t relive how you got in and out of the Fade… or was it the Raw Fade? Either way, you’re glad for that— guilt and self-loathing pangs in your heart. 

 

You couldn’t save the Divine. 

 

You hate destiny. 

 

You find yourself sat down with your hands bound by heavy metal shackles, much like the opening scene of the game. Vaguely, you remember yourself being forced into the position by a scout when you were finally awake. 

As you observe, you’re in the prison under the Chantry chapel and surrounded by 4 Inquisition scouts— all aiming their swords at you. 

 

You don’t blame them.

 

The Anchor in your hand sparks and pain spikes through your arm. 

You hiss in response, gritting your teeth as you quickly endured the unpleasant sensation. 

Fortunately, as quickly as the pain came, it dissipated into a pulsing but numb ache.  

The door is slammed open, the suddenness of it causing you to look up to the two newcomers despite knowing what will happen by heart.

As Seeker Cassandra and Spymaster Leliana enter the room and approach you, the scouts sheath their swords and stand aside but ready to attack if you made the wrong move. 

Cassandra circles you, leaning down briefly when she was behind you, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,” she demands. 

“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead…,” She looks sharply as she points to you, “... except for  _ you _ .”

Leliana speaks— that wasn’t in the game, “However, Ser Auren Numen, your bodyguard who was not with you at the time of the explosion as we understand, vouches for your innocence. Though we are most inclined to take his word…  _ you  _ are our only suspect.” 

 

Relief floods you at the confirmation, he’s  _ alive _ . 

 

You carefully think through your words, you can’t lie but you can’t tell them the truth either. 

You furrow your brows, “You think I'm responsible?” You look up to them, “I doubt that my father wanted to kill all his  _ friends  _ at the Conclave.”

The Seeker narrows her eyes down at you, almost growling as she roughly grabs your left hand cursed by the Anchor, “Then explain  _ this _ ,” she demands, the mark in your hand sparking mildly before she practically throws your hand back to you. 

 

Ouch, that hurt. 

 

You look down to the accursed hand, thinking a bit before speaking, “I…  _ can’t _ .”

Cassandra’s expression grows angrier, “What do you mean you  _ can’t!? _ ”

 

Shit, how to explain without spilling everything. 

 

“I don’t exactly know how it got there, or what that…  _ thing  _ is,” You explain, changing your wording. 

The short haired warrior lunges for you, grabbing your collar, “You’re  _ lying _ !”

Not technically, you internally say sorry to the Seeker. 

Leliana quickly halts Cassandra, moving her away from you. 

“We need her, Cassandra,” The spymaster reasons to said warrior. 

“I… I’m not the one behind whatever destroyed the Conclave. I didn’t want all those people to die,” You say. 

You want so badly to tell them the whole truth. But you know that you will most likely be killed because of it. 

Leliana look down at you, “Do you remember what happened? How all of this began?” She questions. 

 

Vaguely, tell them about it but vaguely. 

 

“I remember entering a room in the Temple because someone was shouting for help…,” You say, your head starting to pound. 

Leliana raises an eyebrow, interested, “Continue,” she urges you. 

“There was a ritual I think?” Your head was starting to ache as you spoke, “Then a flash— suddenly I was running from… giant spider-like  _ things,  _ they were chasing me… Then there was a woman?”

Pounding pain makes it known in your head, though Leliana furrows her brows, “A woman?” She echoes. 

You nod slightly— you regret it as the pain almost makes you want to smash your head into the hard concrete ground. 

“She was reaching out to me and then- shit!” You stop abruptly, crying out in pain as the mark in your hand flared strongly and the pain in your head increased. 

You curl into yourself, clenching your left hand into a fist tightly. You hiss at the intense shocking pain, gritting your teeth as you rode it out while trying not to show any weakness. 

The Seeker and Spymaster’s eyes widen in surprise from the suddenness.

But it’s clear to them that you’re in pain, terrible amounts of it, and they knew that retelling what you remembered was the cause of it. 

Cassandra ushers Leliana, “... Go to the forward camp, Leliana.  _ I  _ will take her to the rift.”

Leliana glances towards you in brief sympathy but otherwise relents and nods, taking her leave. 

By then, the pain has ebbed away into a numb pulsing ache in your marked hand and the headache is mostly gone now. 

The Seeker moves to you, kneeling to unshackle your manacles and bind your hands together with rope.

“... What did happen?” Oh, you know  _ exactly _ what happened but you ask anyway.

Cassandra furrows a brow, “I… it will be easier to show you,” you can hear the grimness in her voice.

She pulls you up on your feet and proceeds to lead you outside, glancing to you sometimes to check if you were still following her.

And you were, you had no reason not to.

So, you follow the Seeker from the dimly lit Chantry chapel to the burst of light from the outdoors. 

You had to shield your eyes briefly from the brightness.

And when you do lower your arms and look to the sky, your stomach drops.

There it is, the Breach. In all it's twisted glory it stayed, sickly green and darkness claimed the area of the rip in the sky.

A giant swirling hole almost akin to a black hole. One that spewed out demons, forcing spirits into reality and corrupting them.

It's more surreal, jarring and dreadful in actuality. At the same time, it was beautiful and filled you with awe.

 

The Orb of Fen'Harel caused that? 

 

How much power was inside of you now?

 

Cassandra looks up to the gigantic rip in the sky and then back to you— your expression hard to read. A mix of dread, slight awe and disbelief maybe? It was hard to tell.

“We call it the Breach. It is a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour,” the Seeker explains.

 

Oh, you  _ know _ exactly what that rift in the sky is but you don't say anything.

 

You let Cassandra continue, “It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

You swallow, the explosion caused by the Orb of Fen'Harel. The Orb that was supposedly to be used by Solas to bring down the Veil.

 

“... I see, the explosion caused all that.”

 

Cassandra nods, “This one in particular did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

Just then, the Breach pulses strongly— strong enough for you to feel the wave of unstable magic just as the mark on your hand flares with pain. 

Hissing, you tighten the accursed hand in to a tight fist, the pain causing you to drop onto your knees. 

Cassandra is quick to move to you, kneeling and gesturing, “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads and it is killing you,” she explains, “It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.” 

Her expression is one filled with begrudging desperation. You decide that you don’t want to see that kind of look on her face. 

If this were the game, you would’ve been asking time consuming questions but this is real, this your life now. 

 

There’s no time to lose. 

 

You exhale, you knew what to do, “I understand,” you say.

A hopeful look washes over the warrior's face, “Then…?”

You nod, giving her a small smile, “I'll do what I can— whatever it takes to close the Breach.”

The Seeker gives you a flash of a small but grateful smile before pulling you to your feet and with her, leading you through Haven. The townsfolk gather and crowd at the sidelines, giving you and Cassandra a way through whilst scowling and sneering towards you.

 

You don’t hold that against them. 

 

Cassandra speaks up, “They have decided your guilt— they need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.”

You lightly bite your lip, “My father and the Divine were good friends with each other. He would have not wanted her to die,” you murmured.

Cassandra frowns a bit, brows furrowing but you do not see it. 

She knows. The Divine sometimes spoke of Teyrn Roland Seraphim— it was always fond and of only good things. 

As you two approach the gates to the bridge, the two Inquisition soldiers standing guard pull them open. 

The are casualties on the bridge, you tune them out despite the aching of self-loathing pangs in your chest.

“We lash out, like the sky,” she exhales, almost sighing, “But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

The Seeker then stops you, deeming it safe enough to pull out a small dagger from its sheath on the back of her waist. 

“There will be a trial— I can promise no more,” She says as she proceeds to cut your bindings. 

You had to will yourself not to scoff. You know that there will be no trial, not after you manage to seal the Breach. 

Cassandra beckons you, “Come, it is not far.” 

You furrow a brow, “Where are we going?” You ask, even though you knew. 

“We must test your mark on something smaller than the Breach,” She answers you.

You nod, understanding, “Alright, lead the way.”

The Seeker does so— ordering the guards to open the gate to the roads leading to the Temple— she leads the way and you follow closely. You’ve lost the daggers you’ve originally brought with you to the Conclave but you know you’ll happen luckily find a pair later.

Along the way, another strong wave of unstable magic pulsates from the Breach. Your mark sending another dose of electric pain shooting up your arm.

You hiss and clutch the offending arm with your good hand.

 

Yes, you are really starting to hate being the chosen one.

 

Somehow, you manage through the agony, though you hunch into yourself as you try not to cry out.

Cassandra is quick to be by your side, helping you to stand properly and not fall to your knees in pain.

“The pulses are coming faster now,” She states, “The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear— the more demons we face,” 

You get the hint that the both of you should travel more quickly. 

You and the Seeker eventually come to a bridge— five soldiers at the end of it.

Vaguely, you remember that this is the same bridge that falls apart. 

 

You’re going to hate the next few minutes.

 

And to your prediction, a rock spewed from the giant rift in the sky comes flying.

“Cassandra, watch o—!!” You try to warn her but the meteor hits and the bridge instantaneously crumbles under your feet

 

You fall.

 

And, for a split second, you see a memory flash before your eyes. Arms reaching out, panic blooming in your chest and the branches of a tree filing your view of the clear blue sky.

Pain shoots through your body as you take a rough, unforgiving tumble— thankfully you have quick enough reflexes to avoid landing on your back and probably paralyzing yourself with the spinal injury.

You land onto the hard cold but thankfully frozen solid ice of the lake beneath the bridge, and you're a bit surprised that the sheer force of the debris of concrete only caused a small impact in the ice.

 

You don't really worry about Cassandra, knowing that she's relatively fine— she's a sturdy woman.

 

The world around you spins and blurs but somehow, you're quick enough to regain your wits and stand up from the ground. 

Thank God that you have quality fur lined leather gloves outfitted with enchantments to warm you up.

Huh, would it be wrong of you to thank God here instead of the Maker? 

A ponder for another time.

 

Your sight returns to normal as the Breach spits out another rock— undoubtedly, it loudly smashes into the frozen lake a few ways from where you and Cassandra have fallen.

To which, the female warrior has recovered from the fall. A bit disoriented but otherwise has most of her wits to see a demon that beginning to form from the pool of an sickening shade of green left by the Breach meteor.

Cassandra is quick to ready her weapons, sword and shield in hand.

“Stay behind me!” She commands and she charges ahead towards the demon.

 

You know that you can't really do that.

 

As predicted, another Shade forms near you and you quickly turn on your heel to see the pair of daggers conveniently splayed out onto the solid ice by a broken wagon.

 

You grab them and arm yourself.

 

You don't really know how you manage it, considering you literally have zero fighting experience, but your body moves— unfazed of having to fight and Thedas!Althea's muscle memory makes it seamless as you will yourself to move.

You dispatch the Shade easily enough as it wails a dying cry and disintegrates into Fade ash.

Your brain, as influenced by many video games, tells you to loot the demon's corpse. Though, you opt not to, seeing Cassandra having a bit of trouble fighting the two Shades that have her effectively sandwiched.

Without thinking too much, you surge forward with a growl in your throat as a fierce, rather primal feeling of protectiveness washes over you.

You jump at the Shade on the Seeker's flank, daggers slicing through its essence and the mark on your hand flaring a bright electric blue.

The demon screeches in pain and blindly swipes at you with its claws.

However, you are able to catch one of its arms with your marked hand and snarl at the monster.

The mark flares and its energy surges into the demon which cries out— jagged lines of electric blue are evident on the demon from the Anchor.

With unbelievable strength you manage to swing the demon into icy ground, pierce the thing with your free hand.

The demon wails as it finally disintegrates into Fade ash.

You collect yourself and look towards Cassandra, the warrior blocking a swipe with her shield before parrying and stabbing the demon in its middle— sword glowing a faint blue, a sign of her using her powers as a Seeker.

The demon turns into Fade ash.

You catch your breath, weapons in hand— heart beating loudly but steadily in your ears and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

 

Huh… you wonder if Thedas knew what adrenaline was.

 

Cassandra is quick to sheathe her shield and stomp her way to you.

“Drop your weapon.  _ Now, _ ” The Seeker points her sword at you.

You raise your hands in defense, “Woah hoh, there. All right, I'll disarm— no need to point that at me.” 

You give a look but otherwise move to discard and lay down your weapons but Cassandra stops you.

“Wait."

You raise an eyebrow and Cassandra sighs, looking a bit guiltily.

"I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenseless," she explains, looking off to the side before continuing, "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly."

You can't help but smile and sheathe your weapons, into the sheath of your previous blades.

"Okay, Seeker. We should keep moving in that case— less we run into more demons," You say, gesturing your head towards the way towards the Temple.

Cassandra nods, quick to see your way out of awkwardness for her. She sheathes her own sword and hands you a small pouch off of her belt.

"Here, take these healing potions— Maker knows what we'll face."

The both of you then continue your trek.

 

Even though you hate having to be the chosen one— you can't help but be excited.

 

You're going to finally meet your favorite character in all of Thedas!


	7. Your First Rift & Oh, It's Solas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first Rift and oh, it's Solas.
> 
> You already want to slap his egg shaped face. 
> 
> At least Varric is there too.

You and Cassandra had to fight a couple of Demons— you discreetly looting their ashes and the valuables of the innocent and valiant that tried to get away from the havoc of the Breach.

For some reason, you thank your apathy— the guilt of looting of actual people who lived… well, you convince yourself that this is how it is now.

You're only a little bit fatigued— a bit of a surprise considering you had to fight through a couple of Shades.

You can only shrug and point it to video game logic.

Huh. You wonder if you can bring up menus— you decide to do that later.

"We are getting closer to the rift— you can hear fighting," Seeker Cassandra speaks up, looking pointedly up the stairs.

 

 _Eugh_ more stairs.

 

You snap out of your thinking space and nod, "We must help them, then."

Cassandra approves of your line of thinking and takes the lead, heading up the stairs.

The both of you jump down from a stone wall and you see the state of the battlefield.

A big pulsating and unstable rift smack dab in the middle whilst soldier and demons fight each other for dominance of the area.

In the midst of the fighting, you spot Solas casting out spells to hold of the Shades and Varric providing cover for the soldiers and said Elven apostate.

Wait— you even spot Auren in the fighting, the insignia of your family emblazoned onto his armor.

 

You and Cassandra rush into the fray.

 

The Seeker charges, bashing a nearby Shade with her shield and putting it down with a quick slice of her blade.

Meanwhile, you ravage the battlefield with your blades— taking down as many Shades as fast as you can.

You feel intense heat and cooling sensation from your marked hand, which was sparking with electric blue energy.

 

_Use me._

 

Huh? What the hell was that voice in your head?

 

_Use my power. I can help you._

 

… Was that the Anchor calling out to you.

 

_Use me._

 

Uh, ok.

 

Deciding to trust this rather mysterious voice in your head, you imagine the power of the Anchor flow into your blade.

And sure enough, a blue glow accompanied with sparks of electricity engulfs the blade in your afflicted hand— you have your blades touch and both of them are dipped in the power of the Anchor.

 

\------

 

Solas feels intense magic and power unlike he had ever experienced before— an influx of emotion washing over him.

A first in a long time since he had awoken to this future.

 

_I need to protect them. I will end this quickly._

 

The emotions that go through him are strong and decisive— creating a concise line of thought.

The elf shifts his focus towards the source and he spots you.

His eyes widen at seeing your Anchor cursed hand flaring… an electric blue?

 

_What?_

 

The Anchor isn't supposed to act like that.

He watches you slice through the Shades— blades covered in an cyan haze.

 

How curious.

 

"Hey Baldie— behind you!" He hears the voice of a certain dwarf call out.

And he reacts accordingly— quickly dodging an incoming attack from his flank and sending out a wave of fire to decimate his foe.

 

Right. They're still in battle.

 

Solas will assess the situation after.

 

\------

 

You spot Auren— the man slicing and charging at demons flanking on the soldiers.

But dear, poor man neglects his own flank. A Shade tries to catch him off guard, preparing its claws to strike.

You rush in, taking down the demon with a swift decisive swing of your blades.

"Auren! Watch your damn back for Maker's sake," you growl loudly.

Said brunette spins around so quickly his helmet almost practically falls off.

 

"Althea!?"

 

"On your left— focus on the fight!" You scold him as he barely manages to block an attack from a shade.

Auren growls, "We'll talk later— let's finish this!" He grunts, slicing down a demon to which disintegrates into ashes.

You nod and help him and the other clean up the remaining demons.

As soon as you dealt with the final Shade, you hear a voice echo in your head.

 

_Use me to close the rift._

 

Ok mysterious voice in your head, you knew that already.

 

You don't really notice but, just as Solas is about to march up to you, you raise your marked hand up to the glowing rift.

Your hand sparks blue and green— your eyes swirl and glow with the same colors.

 

_Seal the rift._

 

All at once, the rift surges into your hand— power and energy flowing into the Anchor.

It takes a few seconds but, the next thing you know it, the rift collapses and leaves nothing but a pile of ash.

You feel a surge of power through you but at the same time your marked hand feels weird and tingly— you honestly thought that it would, well, be a lot more painful…

 

Absorbing and closing a rift and all.

 

_You leveled up._

 

Okay… mysterious voice in your head, thanks for the info.

 

"Huh…" You stare at your afflicted hand— now adorned with a dim blue and green glow.

Your staring contest with your own hand is interrupted as you are harshly spun around to face a very aggravated Cassandra.

"What did you do to the rift!?" She shakes you, a snarl on her face.

You blink, "I uh… closed it— I think…," you reply, dumbly.

"Closed it? Did you know that you had this ability from the start!? How could you keep that a secret!?" The Seeker accuses you

Before anything to escalate further, Auren pushes Cassandra off of you, standing in between you and her.

 

"That is enough, Seeker," Auren glares at the woman.

 

"There is no need to throw baseless accusations at Lady Althea," He stands his ground firmly.

Just as Seeker Cassandra is about to retort, Solas steps in.

"Now, hold on for a moment. Ser Auren is right, there's no need to fight about this," he backs the knight up, "Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon her hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake— and it seems I was correct.”

Solas then turns to you, "I'm quite surprised that you knew to close the rift," he states, his gaze steady on you.

You glance at your hand, "I… _didn't_. Something in my gut just... told me to raise the mark to the rift," you then met Solas' gaze.

He looks surprised for a split second before recovering and responding, "Well then, it seems like your gut is right in telling you to do so."

Cassandra looks relieved at the news, sheathing her weapons, "That would mean, the mark could close the Breach itself, as well."

Solas turns to the Seeker, "Possibly," he nods.

The secretly an Evanuris then turns to you, "It seems that you hold the key to our salvation."

Varric— who was dusting off the grime and ashes of the demons on his clothes as best as he can whilst listening in on the conversation— deems it his time to butt in.

 

"Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass deep in demons forever."

 

Hearing his voice, the four of you turn to him— Varric walking towards your small group while adjusting his gloves.

You hold in a laugh, you can't help it— that line was what made Varric your favorite character.

 

Who doesn't love a man with a great sense of humor like that?

 

But in other news, you have to admit— seeing Cassandra, Solas and Varric in actuality… the game didn't do them justice. They were all so much better looking than their in-game models.

 

That said, damn that chest hair though.

 

Wait… how the hell isn’t this dwarf cold— you were in the freezing temperature.

 

Varric approaches you with a light bow of his head and a smirk, "Varric Tethras; rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong," he then winks to Cassandra who scowls and rolls her eyes in annoyance.

What to respond with… it's not like you have your trust wheel of dialogue choices to choose from— even if you do somewhat memorize the whole game.

You raise an eyebrow, " _The_ Varric Tethras? Are you with the Chantry or…?"

Solas can't help but chuckle at your query, "Was that a serious question?"

Varric scoffs, rolling his eyes at the taller man, "Oh, shut it, Chuckles."

He then looks to you, "Technically I'm a prisoner, just like you."

Cassandra scowls, butting in, "I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer necessary."

Varric smirks, "Yet, here I am. Lucky for you, considering current events.”

 

Cassandra makes a face of disgust.

 

You smile, half because of the short banter and half meant for the dwarf, "Well, either way— I have to say that's a nice crossbow you have there," you gesture to said weapon on his back.

Varric smiles, glancing at his crossbow, "Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

"Bianca, huh. Nice name for a good crossbow," you state.

Varric blinks, surprised at your response— though he recovers with a grin, "Of course, and she'll be damn good company in the valley."

Upon hearing that, Cassandra scowls at the dwarf, " _Absolutely not_. Your help is appreciated, Varric, _but_ …”

Before the Seeker could continue, Varric speaks up, "Have you _been_ in the valley lately, Seeker?" He gives her a incredulous look, "Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You _need_ me," Varric gestures to himself with a decisive look.

Cassandra only responds with a disgusted noise.

Solas turns to you, giving you a small smile, "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you still live.”

 

You want to scoff at him— yeah you know his name, you also know that he's the Elven God, Fen'Harel.

 

Varric faces you, "He means, _I kept that mark from killing you while you slept_.”

You give a small smile either way, "Then, I owe you my thanks."

Solas smiles, though shakes his head slightly, “Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.”

Auren decides that now is the ideal time to butt in, " _Kill_ her? That is a possibility?" He furrows his brows.

"You must understand, Ser Auren. The magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen,” Solas explains, "I do not know what closing the Breach— which is significantly bigger and more powerful than any rift so far— will affect you, Lady Althea."

You press down the urge to narrow down your eyes at Solas.

Though, Auren doesn't look too pleased at the news.

You nudge the much taller knight beside you, "Hey, I'll be fine— I promise," you murmur softly, offering him a reassuring smile.

Auren can't help but smile back and believe you despite his worries.

Solas addresses Cassandra, "Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

You had to beat down the urge to glare at his shiny bald head with a stick.

 

_LIAR._

 

Solas stiffens at the intense wave of emotion that attacks him.

 

What in the Fade?

 

Cassandra nods, "I see. We must get to the forward camp quickly."

She addresses the three soldiers and gives them orders before turning to your small group.

Varric grins, glancing up at you,  "Well, Bianca's excited!"

"This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked," Cassandra gestures with her head.

Solas nods, "We must move quickly."

The Seeker leads, climbing down the wall of rubble on the side of the battlefield— Solas and Varric following after her.

Auren leans down to you, "Stay close to me, Althea."

You look up to him and nod, "Right," you murmur.

The brunette give a noise of acknowledgement before speaking up, "I'm glad you're okay," he whispers, relief flooding his voice.

 

You grimace internally. Right, this is real— this is your life now. You feel absolutely terrible, a deep sinking feeling settling in your gut. How are you going to tell him, _them_ , that you're not who they think you are? At this rate, the knowledge you hold is going to be the end of you.

 

With that, the two of you catch up to the rest of the group.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, Kudos, and Criticism are all welcome!


End file.
